Leap (7 page)

I don’t hear Mark when he talks to me, but a nudge of his arm and my name being called, “Corrine? You okay?” makes me tear my eyes from Mack and Veronica. My eyes go to Mark’s and I shake my head coming out of my stare.

“I’m so sorry. What did you say?”

He takes his finger and slides it down my cheek. Absolutely being uncomfortable with the way this feels, I flinch slightly but not enough for Mark to notice, just giving him the illusion of him surprising me.

“I said I’m looking forward to tonight. I’m hoping we get to spend some alone time together. I know you’re sharing a room with a few friends, but maybe we can work something out?” His last statement is a question. One I don’t have the answer to. I don’t even want to think about it, yet I do need to satisfy him with some sort of an answer.

“Um . . . yeah. I’ll talk to my friends.” He smiles and settles back in his seat looking satisfied from my answer.

Proms are silly and stupid. Proms are pointless and superficial. Too many balloons, too many silly silver stars hanging from the ceiling, and too many songs about moving on and saying goodbye. I won’t miss high school. I’ll miss some people here, but I’m looking forward to going to Boston for school. My dreams of being a lawyer have changed even though I can still argue with Mae like I’m in a courtroom.

I’ve found a love of the arts. I discovered my talent of photography when Mack saw a few pictures I had taken with his camera of him playing baseball. This led me to my passion. Once Mack saw them, he made me start taking more. I took shots of the sunsets and of the beach grasses, and of landscapes of our spot down by the shoreline. That Christmas Mack got me my first camera. A Nikon D7100. He must have saved all his summer job money for it, and I couldn’t believe it when he gave it to me. It was beyond expensive. Way too much for him to buy, especially for me. When I asked Mack why he spent so much he told me, “’Cause, Rinny, this is what you were meant to do. You have to take the leap.” Always telling me that so that’s exactly what I did. I applied to a few arts colleges. Some in New York and some in Pennsylvania. Mack was the one who convinced me to go to Mass Arts. The Massachusetts College of Art and Design. I also think there was a motive behind his recommendation. He was going to Boston University to study political science. Even though Mack is independent, he needs some kind of familiarity wherever he goes. I’ve followed him over the past year and half when he has gone away for baseball tournaments. He begged me. I think he needed the support of family, and since his dad died, his mom’s mental absence has affected him. So when he was accepted to BU on a baseball scholarship and I was looking into colleges, Mack did some behind-my-back legwork and found Mass Art. It didn’t take much convincing, though. It’s a great school, and knowing Mack would only be twenty minutes or so from me, also brought me some sort of comfort. I think it made our parents happy too. My mom has always been a little over protective.

The music is blaring and a sea of people on the dance floor surrounds my friends and me. The end of the night is almost here and I thank God. Mark is talking with a few people he knows. He laughs and looks at me, as well as a few of his buddies.

What could they be laughing about?

I’ve lost sight of Mack and the bitch. I’ve hardly seen him tonight. But he’s Mack and everyone knows him and wants to be a part of his circle. It’s not hard to be sucked in. His personality and charisma pulls you in.

I’m not really into dancing, but at a function like this, it’s a must I suppose.

I feel hands on my waist, and someone turns me around swiftly. Mark’s face is in front of me, and I put on my fake look of joy to see him.

“Hey, you want me to grab you something to drink?” I nod, turn on the farcical display of gratitude, and thank him as he walks off of the dance floor. I continue to dance with my friends until the song ends. A slower song plays throughout the room and the lights dim. The remaining light bounces off the shining silver stars above the dance floor. People begin to exit the dance floor, and I begin to make my way off as well, until I see Mack making his way towards me through the crowd. People bump shoulders with him and I can see his body being knocked around slightly from the contact, but his movements never falter as he approaches.

And there goes my breath. Stolen right from my lungs. Taken without warning.

I still see him as a bratty ten-year-old boy, but when I feel my stomach sink and then rise as I see his hair shimmer from the reflections of the lights above us and the clear coolness in his eyes—I see a man. I see Mack as a man, and I never thought I’d see him as anything else than that ten-year-old boy.

I try my best not to make direct eye contact but that’s an impossibility. I work very hard at relaxing my sudden, rapid breathing at his approach, and try to internally talk myself into the fact that this is Mack.

Mack.

Mack who pulled your pigtails. Mack who you used to make mud pies with. Mack who you rode the waves with at Jones Beach. Mack who punched Alex Fiester in the face for you when he told the neighborhood you had cooties and smelled like you took a bath in the bay. This is Mack, Corrine. This is also the Mack, who said you were talented and encouraged you to follow your dream. The same Mack that told you a few hours ago how beautiful you looked.

My internal monologue is not helping.

When he reaches me, the tips of our shoes touch and Mack gives me a passive look.

“So where ya been all night? Where’s what’s his face?”

I give him the same look and ask, “Getting me a drink. And where’s what’s her name?”

He motions over to the table they were sitting at, and I watch as she flips that goddamn hair of hers and laughs like a hyena. I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth and try not to make my facial expression show the dislike I have for her.

“Wanna dance?” His eyes grow wide, and he shrugs his broad shoulders and holds out his hands for me to take.

I answer and remember that this is Mack; he’s like my brother. Even though I find him attractive tonight—doesn’t mean jack-squat. It means that this is my best friend who is asking me to dance at our prom.

“Sure. Why not.”

With one hand on his waist and the other in his hand, Mack’s fingers find my waist, as our chests are mere inches apart. We begin to sway to the music. I’m not very good at slow dancing either, but Mack is a great leader. I find myself swallowing more than usual, and with my nose so close to the crook of his neck, I can smell the scent I picked out for him. I do my best not to inhale.

“Oh, Rinny. I can’t believe we’re graduating. I can’t believe we’ll be in Boston in just a few months. Are you excited?”

I nod. “Um . . . yeah. Can’t wait. How about you?”

“Yeah, I’m excited. I just want to work hard and become a journalist. I want to work for a newspaper or a news network.”

I chuckle a bit. “Oh, so you want to read a teleprompter and read the morning news?”

He squeezes my hand letting me know I’m being a bitch.

“No, dummy. I just don’t want to cover the news. I want to investigate the news. I want to help, Rinny. I want to try to make a difference in the world.”

Little does he know, he does make a difference in the world. My world.

“I know you do, and I believe you will, Mack. I believe in you.”

He stops our dance and pulls away to search my face. His eyes trace the contours of it. He starts from my chin until he reaches my eyes. A look of complete peace falls on his face.

“You do, Rinny, don’t you? You do believe in me. Why is it that you’re the only one?”

Looking at him looking at me this way makes me speechless. The dark hole that I feel like I have inside sometimes doesn’t seem so dark. I open my mouth to speak but the words that come out are crackling, and it’s not my voice that speaks. My hand sweats in his and I pray he doesn’t notice.

“Jocelyn believes in you, Mack.”

He shakes his head, then breaks his eye contact with me. His eyes go to the silver stars in the sky. He reaches up to touch one. They’re up high but he manages to touch the point of one.

His face finds mine again and gives me a tight-lipped smile.

“I’m pretty sure the stars above our beds are better than their cardboard ones, right?”

He avoids my statement about his mom because he knows she’s been in a fog since his dad died. He doesn’t have much family around, so I’m all he has in the world right now.

Smiling I laugh and agree, looking up at them. “I think you may be right. Even if some of them have fallen off over the years, I think no matter what, they leave some kind of mark.”

“Sort of like us, Rinny. We will always leave our mark. You with your photos and me with my journalism. We’ll leave our mark someday.” Mack pulls me in and kisses my temple. His lips feel like fire against my skin. My heart pounds and a shiver runs down my spine. His arms feel safe as they surround me. He holds me like if he didn’t, I’d slip away. I like this feeling. I like the way he’s holding me.

“You’re all I’ve got, Rinny. You’re all I’ve got.”

As masculine as Mack is, he’s also so very fragile. I’m all he has. I’ll always make sure I’m here for him, and right now, at this moment, as I’m hugging him back, I feel the warmth of his body through our clothes and I don’t want this song to end. I don’t want to leave this dance floor. I want to stay with him under the silver stars.

“You have me, Mack. I’ll always be here.” My words creep out and, whether they’re inaudible or not, I still say them. My tone reassures him of this. He needs my words and my actions. He needs to imbed it into his brain that I am here. I’ll always have his back. I’ll never turn away from him. I’ll be his constant. These truths will never die.

“You do look beautiful tonight, Corrine.” I feel my knees weaken from his words when suddenly a hand pulls Mack back from our embrace, and all I see is that disgusting pink dress.

“Mack?” she whines. “Aren’t you going to save me a dance? It’s the end. You have to save the last dance for me, then we can make our way to the hotel room.” She makes suggestive eyes at him, and I stand there, feet firmly planted, but I want to run when I see her and hear her words.

Mack looks at her and smiles, but I can tell it’s forced. He searches my face. The glimmer in his eyes is gone and the feeling in the pit of my belly is no longer the feeling of excitement. It’s jealously. Nothing simple about it. It is what it is.

“Rinny, I’ll see you later. There’s a party in room 201. I’ll see you there?” I nod. I don't turn my face in time and see Mack grab Veronica. I wish I didn’t.

I walk off the dance floor where Mark meets me with a soda. Because he paid attention to me.”

“Do you want to dance?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. My feet hurt. I’m not used to wearing these kinds of shoes.” I make light of it, and the fact that my toes are probably bleeding.

He’s fine with my answer. “Okay, no problem. Drink up so we can go change and stop by at that party in room 201." He pauses after I don’t answer right away. “If that’s what you want to do.”

I want to say yes because Mack will be there, but I also want to say no because so will Veronica.

Mark gulps his drink and encourages me to as well. I hold the cup in my hand, and I watch—no—I glare at the dance floor. I see Mack and Veronica in a close embrace as they dance and look happy. I imagine I looked like that not too long ago. Veronica turns and her eyes see mine, and the corner of her mouth rises up, and she winks at me. Grabbing Mack’s face, she kisses him with fever and lust, and my stomach churns. Acid builds and builds and I take my glass and swig back the contents. Throwing it on a nearby table, I take Mark’s hand and pull him out of the room and tell him let’s go to mine.

I blink. It hurts to blink. My eyelids feel as though they weigh a hundred pounds. My mouth is so dry it’s like there’s cotton stuck inside. When my eyes come into focus, I look to my ceiling. I look at my glow-in-the-dark stars, and like Mack’s, they are fading and peeling. Then it hits me.

I’m home. In my bed. Why am I home in my bed?

As much as I want to move, I can’t. Every time I try to move it hurts. I croak out an unrecognizable sound from my mouth, and I can hear movement from beside me.